A procreated firmament,
Wearing with the passage of time
Speaks an ugly story of
Intolerance and genocide.
What could’ve been told through verbs and nouns
Was spoken using arms.
The arms of war appended by
The prolonged arms of new laws.
You need to stay, even if not in green,
To avoid a new big bruise,
Painting the map with shades of red
You mute the country’s woes.
Perhaps you’d like a cup of tea
While you make a point of view.
Made from the finest western blend
With dollars to be brewed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem